


bury me in your memory

by singsungie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Fantasy, Happy Ending tho, In a way, Kinda, M/M, Magical Realism, Memories, Symbolism, and other stuff, fairytale AU, mb more like, minho is a deity and jisung is desperate and sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsungie/pseuds/singsungie
Summary: Mostly,  Jisung just feels lost. The inside of his chest is too full of longing for any other emotion to stay long, and so he sits, and looks, and he tries to remember.Minho does his best to help.---Or, Minho is the keeper of all things lost and Jisung can't find what he needs the most.





	bury me in your memory

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! this came to me randomly and it was super fun to write so i hope its just as fun to read!!  
as always - thanks to my [my favourite beta ever](https://twitter.com/CHANGBlNlE) and [another great friend too!](https://twitter.com/milkmurk)
> 
> the title is from Mitski's "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"!
> 
> I don't know how ~~fairytale-y~~ it is, but it was heavily inspired by the trope of coming to a deity and asking for help and them giving you three things, and then the rest happened. I'm pretty glad it did, tbh  
enjoy~ <3

They say _ he’s _ responsible for the things people lose—house keys, colourful gloves, loose coins from the bottom of a bag. Curious pets that slip out of the backyard. Careless children in crowded streets.

Memories, good and bad. 

Jisung looks up to find he can’t see the sky anymore. He turns back to discover he already can’t recognise the trees. There is no path under his feet, only pieces of dried sticks and a mush of leaves and dirt. 

He must have strayed pretty far—maybe even far enough. 

Or maybe not. Jisung quells the tremor in his stomach and walks more, until his feet start aching. Until he almost gives up. 

Until he finally decides it's futile.

And then, when he decides to turn around, to try and find his way back, Jisung comes across a clearing with a mossy boulder in the middle of it.

From behind it, a tuft of hair can be seen, shimmering silver in the falling darkness. A hand leaning on the ground, white flowing cotton covering the wrist and leaving only thin fingers visible.

“Seems like you’re lost,” a voice calls out, sharp. There’s a lilt of inviting humor in it and Jisung takes a deep breath, willing his limbs to move again until he comes to stand in front of the deity. 

He’s sitting on the ground, leaning on the rock, feline eyes half closed and a smirk on his peachy lips. A delicate shirt covers his torso, with an intricate lace front, tucked under a weaved leather belt and dark pants, polished leather boots reaching almost up to his knees. The waning moon makes his skin glow, his eyes twinkle, the silver around his neck glint.

Jisung swallows hard, feeling the waiting eyes on his skin. His heart flutters with fear and excitement.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he forces out, every syllable stronger than the one before until his voice no longer shakes.

“So I have noticed,” the deity answers calmly. “What for? I doubt I can offer you much.”

“I lost… something.” Jisung swallows. “But I don’t know what exactly. I just know it’s incredibly important.”

The keen gaze regards him for a moment and the silence makes Jisung bite his lip.

“People lose many things over their lifetime,” the deity hums. “Makes it quite hard to give the right one back when you can’t name it.”

Jisung sighs, disappointment slowly taking over hope in his chest.

“Is there nothing you could do?” he pleads anyway.

The deity hums again, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the starlight.

“I have a ring you once inherited,” he says, opening his eyes, and stretches one of his hands out, something tightly clenched in his fist. Jisung takes a step closer. A thick golden ring falls to his palm. The fiery stone, embedded within the golden tangles, glisters and when Jisung slips it on, it fits perfectly. “It fell on the floor of your bedroom, last year at the end of autumn. Is this it?”

Jisung’s thumb brushes over the metal. There’s warmth climbing his arm, flooding into his blood, slowing his heartbeat.

“I don’t know,” he answers quietly. “I hope so. Thank you.”

“I shall hope so too,” the deity smiles. His teeth glint. “Be more careful where you wander.”

Before Jisung can ask how he could repay—surely, this return wouldn’t come without a price—the darkness closes in and the deity’s dainty being dissipates to nothingness.

When Jisung opens his eyes again, he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling, but he only sees those dark eyes and the shimmering silver hair. The ring tingles his skin with heat.

His chest feels even emptier than before.

The moon is full and high up in the sky and Jisung stands in a field of tall grass. There’s a forest in front of him and an abandoned house behind, its windows dark for as long as Jisung can remember. There’s cold breeze ruffling his hair, but the icy brush is gone as soon as it hits.

“You dropped this,” a silvery voice calls out behind him and Jisung takes in a long, shaky breath.

“Did I?” he asks, turning around to meet the sharp gaze. The deity is wearing the same smirk and the same clothes, though Jisung is half sure the lacework is even more elaborate tonight. His gray hair shimmers—did it get darker? His glow is still the same, though, as is the glint of his eyes. An impatient eyebrow twitches, and Jisung shakes himself back to the present. “Must have been an accident.”

The deity looks down at the silver earring in his palm, a delicate swirl adorned with sprinkles of crystals, and closes his fingers over it.

“I’ll keep it safe for a little bit, then,” he says, eyes flickering back to Jisung, and his quiet voice holds such a heavy promise that Jisung’s heart plummets to his feet. “Was the ring not it?”

“No,” Jisung sighs, already moving to take it off, but the deity stops him with a soft shake of his head.

“I gave it back for you to keep, you know that, right?” he asks, a small smile on his lips. 

“I… I suppose that makes sense,” Jisung murmurs, then clears his throat. Relief floods his chest; Jisung’s gotten quite used to the constant, soothing warmth. “But, is there anything else you could think of?”

“I don’t know,” the deity frowns. “There are so many …”

“Anything,” Jisung pleads, and it’s both a request, and an offer.

The wind must have changed directions, because a scent suddenly hits Jisung; a heady, almost sickly sweet smell of honey and then something pungent and smoky right under it. It's not like anything he's smelled before. Jisung blinks a few quick times and then takes a step forward, almost involuntary, before the deity’s sharp voice breaks the spell.

“Alright, what about this?” 

He has an arm outstretched, and there’s a key on a bright red thread hanging off his index finger. Jisung takes it, the bronze cold under his skin. It’s thin, much smaller than most keys Jisung has, and the ornate head suggests it’s most likely for something other than a door.

“It fell behind your desk and was forgotten about,” the deity explains but that’s not what Jisung wants to know.

“What’s it for?” he asks, his thumb rubbing over the smooth metal, and raises his gaze just in time to see the deity’s eyebrows furrow.

“I’m… not completely sure. I just know it was once quite important to you.”

Jisung hums, looking back down, but no matter how much he racks his brain, he can’t remember ever owning it.

“Maybe this is it, then?” the deity offers quietly and Jisung shrugs, giving him a hopeful smile.

“Maybe so,” he agrees. “Well, how many things could I have lost, right?”

The deity just shakes his head, his eyes opening wider than Jisung’s seen them so far.

“So, _ so _ many. People do nothing but lose stuff,” he whines and for a moment Jisung freezes, unsure of how to respond to a deity being playful, terrified of making the wrong move.

“Guess I should start being more careful then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and the glowing being suddenly quietens.

“I think you already have,” he says and the grass around them grows impossibly tall until the sky is no more.

Jisung pulls the covers up to his forehead, hoping the earring is a good enough offering, hoping the key is what he was looking for.

He dreams of a moonless night over a lake and a comfortable boat in the middle of it, and the cold, honey-scented breeze that doesn’t dare to settle on his skin.

The moon grows thinner, the wind howls and clocks keep quietly ticking. Jisung stares through the windows of his room, of the living room, in the kitchen and the library—out to the forest and the empty house and the slow flow of clouds.

He twists the fiery ring, up and down his finger, but doesn't dare to take it off. He rubs the bronze key between his thumb and index, pulling until the ruby thread digs into his neck. He picks at his meals and listens to his brother talk about nothing and smiles at the maid when she pours him tea he never finishes.

He knows why his father keeps inviting friends and relatives over any chance he gets, and he knows what his mother worries about, much more than her doctor would like; but can’t find it in himself to care. The feeling in his chest, the same tug that had him headed to the forest at midnight and to the grassy fields, one that has his mind occupied and turning, still hasn’t dissipated. It keeps Jisung restless, makes him sad, fuels the heat of his pointless anger.

Mostly, though, Jisung just feels lost. The inside of his chest is too full of longing for any other emotion to stay long, and so he sits, and wonders, and looks, and he tries to remember.

The wooden gates creak closed and Jisung watches a black tail for a moment before closing his eyes. When he opens them, the bushes behind their fence are once again still and lifeless.

“Hae!” Jisung shouts, quiet as to not wake anyone in the house right next to him. “Where did you go, baby?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were an idiot,” the already familiar voice speaks up and Jisung bites his lip before turning around. His heartbeat doubles its pace and the tips of his fingers tingle.

“An idiot is a little harsh, no?” he asks, innocently as he can, watching Hae’s tail curl around the deity’s neck. Two pairs of feline eyes, golden and dark, stare him down.

“Who else would walk a black cat during new moon?” the deity raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, and Hae starts washing her face. His hair is definitely darker, Jisung notes, and his heart flutters when he notes the sparkle of an earring between the smokey strands.

“Someone desperate,” slips out of his lips and Jisung looks at his bare feet. The key weighs heavy on his chest. He can barely feel the chilly dew on the grass and on his skin and the realisation upsets him, has tears pricking behind his eyes. Even when he is in control, he doesn’t feel like it at all.

“Still not it, huh.” It’s not a question, but Jisung nods anyway. He bites the inside of his cheek, as harshly as he can stand, and blinks away the threat of tears before looking up again.

“One last time,” he begs. “Just one more try, and if it’s still not it, and if nothing changes, I’ll let it go. I won’t bother you anymore.”

The deity’s face is clouded and Jisung can’t quite decypher the emotions in his eyes.

“No,” he says and Jisung almost starts sobbing, hopeless, then and there, the grip on his throat unbearable. “You didn’t bother me before and you never will. Come back as many times as you need to. Until your pain is soothed.”

Jisung would have fallen to his knees if it weren’t for the shock locking up his muscles.

“Are… are you sure?” he tries, because however grateful he is, he’d feel more than guilt if to recover his own happiness he’d make someone else suffer. Who is he to ask something from a divine being?

“Of course I am,” the deity scoffs and Hae meows in agreement. “I’m not a fool to give promises I can’t keep.”

“Then,” Jisung takes a deep breath. “I’m very thankful.”

The deity looks at him, the smallest smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, then stretches his arm out. “Here’s something you forgot in the garden once. It looks important.”

It’s a thick, unfamiliar notebook with brown leather covers, heavy in Jisung’s hold. He turns it over to find a lock on the strap that keeps the pages together and his heart jumps into overdrive.

He lifts his head to thank the deity once again, but there’s noone there. Jisung turns to the side and his head is met by the cushion of his pillow.

The notebook lays right under his fingertips.

It’s actually a diary, Jisung discovers the next evening, after hastily excusing himself from dinner to finally hide in his bedroom. The bronze key fits perfectly and it unlocks almost too easy, as if the book has been waiting for this too.

The writing inside is his for sure, curled letters and less carefully scribbled dates, but Jisung can’t remember ever even _ owning _ a diary. And yet, the descriptions and names seem to check out as well when Jisung skims the words and flips through the pages. It’s two-thirds filled and dated a few years back, but everything seems so ordinary that Jisung is pretty sure this still isn’t it. It can’t be.

Disappointment blooms in his chest. He slams the diary closed a little harder than he should, ready to burrow under the covers and sulk until he falls asleep, the tugging in his chest eased not one bit. Then Jisung remembers the deity’s promise.

Again and again, until they finally figure it out.

Maybe not all is lost, Jisung considers, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. Maybe he _ will _find it. The sooner the better, but he has already waited for quite some time—what is just a little more?

Jisung looks down at the book and a sudden wish to write down the feelings and the pain washes over him. He grabs a pen and pulls the diary open again, the pages unfurling at a random spot, and Jisung tucks his fingers under the paper, ready to turn it over to a fresh spot, when a word catches his attention.

Not just any word. A name.

The forest is quiet, a thin slice of moon throwing barely any light onto the sleeping trees. Jisung is not exactly sure _ why _ he runs into the forest of all places, but he’s both glad and annoyed at the trunks dampening the noise of his wails.

“Minho,” he calls, voice raw from all the emotions that rush with his blood. 

“Minho, Minho,_ Minho,” _ he cries, but even as his eyes flood with tears, every tree, every bush, every turn is familiar like it never was before, and no matter how far Jisung goes, he can feel where his home is. 

There is nowhere to get lost in this forest, not anymore.

It only makes Jisung sob harder, even as his shouts weaken and dissipate, and it takes him a second to realise he’s standing on the grassy shore of a lake. The surface is as still as a mirror, stars twinkling off the dark water and waves slowly lap at the boat tied to a wooden post.

Jisung freezes. He knows the boat, both from the memories that don’t feel his, and from the dreams drenched in sickly sweetness. He also gets an idea of what to do, raising an arm to dry his salty cheeks and coming closer to the water.

He walks until the toes of his shoes get wet and then just looks at the leisurely ripples, taking deep breaths to slow his heart, to convince himself everything will be okay.

Then, he pulls the golden ring off his finger and throws it at the water as fast as he can, watching it disappear with a splash. The echoing waves roll over the whole surface, making the glint of stars dance with their rhythm.

The world is quiet and the breeze is so much colder than Jisung remembers. It pierces his heart and makes him want to scream, but he can’t find the will to open his mouth.

The last drops of heat evaporate from the tips of his fingers and Jisung exhales a shallow breath, leaning into the bitter disappointment that overflows his lungs and threatens to spill past his eyelashes.

“I told you to keep it, didn’t I?”

An involuntary whimper escapes Jisung’s lips before he whips his whole body around.

“It’s _ you, _ Minho,” he cries, knees hitting the dew-soaked grass the moment he sees his pitch-black hair and warm brown eyes and the slight smirk on his lips. Though tears cloud his vision, Jisung can still see the flinch that the name causes.

“Jisung?” he asks, barely louder than a whisper, disbelief smeared all over his face. “You… you remembered?”

Jisung nods, his whole body shaking with the force of emotions. He grips the grass with both of his fists as if it could calm him. It doesn’t.

“I did,” he answers. “I really did. It was always you I was looking for, wasn’t it?”

Minho falls in front of him, quivering arms wrapping around Jisung and pulling him close to his chest, to his racing heart.

“Jisung,” he breathes, and then laughs, and soft, muffled melody next to Jisung’s ear. “I can’t believe it.”

Jisung relaxes in Minho’s warm hold, his pulse slowing down. Every breath he takes is tinted with honey.

The longing in his chest ceases for the first time in a long, long while.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” he whispers to the soft, white cotton under his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Minho.”

“It’s okay,” Minho whispers back, his fingers buried in Jisung’s hair, slowly working all the knots loose. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Jisung lets out a hopeless laugh.

“I forgot too,” Minho sighs. “I knew you were someone important, but unlike you, I couldn’t say a thing. That was my curse. You broke it.”

“A curse?” Jisung frowns and moves back to look into Minho’s eyes.

Minho avoids his stare for a moment, taking a deep breath as he searches the ground for words.

_“He _ offered me a way to leave my family, a way for them to forget I exist, if I spent a year doing his job,” Minho explains and Jisung’s mind spins. 

Truly, now that he remembers a childhood with Minho, it doesn’t make much sense with his current, much more divine-like being. And he remembers the fights and the shouts and the tears. And the man, the one who gifted Jisung a fiery ring, saying it was something that belonged to him by birthright. Jisung lost it the same autumn Minho disappeared.

“But,” Minho continues and his gaze finally meets Jisung’s. “If someone I loved didn’t remember me by the time my year ended, I would never be allowed to return.”

“Oh,” Jisung gasps, his fingers clutching Minho’s shirt even tighter. There were barely days left of summer, cruel winds already forcing the heat out. 

A year can pass in a blink of an eye.

“I didn’t think he’d cheat,” Minho chuckles, his expression darkening. “I didn’t think he’d force us both under the spell, I didn’t think he’d hide you away from me.”

“And _ he _didn’t think I’d turn out to be such a diligent note-taker,” Jisung giggles, finally seeing the full picture. 

“Was that what did it?” Minho tilts his head, his fingers sliding down to Jisung’s neck. They’re fire hot on his freezing skin. “The notebook?”

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs and leans into his touch. “I saw your name and something just… clicked.”

Minho nods. “Makes sense. And to think I used to make fun of your diary habit.”

“You know, I remember you making fun of me a lot, actually,” Jisung pouts. “Which is very rude and I think you should take this clean slate as a chance to stop.”

“Oh? Or what?” Minho smirks. “You’ll write about it in your _ diary?” _

Jisung punches one of his shoulders but it doesn’t stop Minho’s cackling.

“Maybe I will! And maybe that’ll save your ass again sometime!” he scoffs. Minho goes quiet, and his hand brushes over Jisung’s jaw before cupping his cheek.

“You really did save my ass, didn’t you?” he murmurs. Though the moon is dim, it’s still enough to keep Minho’s skin glowing and Jisung can’t take his eyes off the curve of his lips. “I guess I owe you a big thank you.”

“The biggest,” Jisung nods, grinning. Minho’s eyes glint with happiness and his hold feels more like home than any building Jisung’s ever been in, and the shine of his peachy lips slams Jisung’s heart into overdrive. And yet he’s felt it all before, the weak echoes in his memory remind him.

Jisung realises he wants to memorize this anew every single day for the rest of his life and it takes his breath away.

“But honestly, his whole plan was stupid from the start,” Jisung breathes out a chuckle, leaning in closer, the high from rushing emotions leaving no space for the past fears. He’s not sure why they ever existed in the first place—the way Minho’s cheeks redden says it all and more. “What kind of an idiot would forget their first love?”

Though it’s not something Jisung has experienced before, the feeling when their lips meet is the most familiar of all.

The boat lulls gently and Jisung watches the reflections of red and golden trees get distorted by the ripples, Minho’s black hair soft under his fingers.

“Jisung,” Minho says, startling him.

“Yes?” Jisung blinks down at him, leaving a short kiss on his forehead.

“I realized something.”

When Minho doesn’t continue, Jisung raises an eyebrow and pokes his shoulder.

“Still can’t read your mind,” he laughs. Minho smiles at that and sits up.

He clears his throat, looking down at the way setting sun sparkles on the water.

“That day, when you remembered,” he says and a shiver goes down Jisung’s back at the mention. It’s one of his best and worst memories—they kissed for the first time, but it was at the cost of the terrifying realization he spent a year without any memories of Minho and that could’ve been the rest of his life—but it’s also been more than a year since then and he’s not sure there’s much more to say.

He asks, “What about it?” anyway, because he can see the tension in Minho’s shoulders.

“When you were summoning me, you dropped your ring in the water,” Minho says, still not looking at Jisung. “And I’ve kept it, because… well, I wasn’t even sure why. It certainly doesn’t have the best memories tied to it.”

“No,” Jisung agrees quietly, reaching up to brush over the key that has been hanging under his shirt every single moment for the past year. 

“But it is a beautiful piece of jewelry and so I…” Minho stops to take a deep breath and then finally meets Jisung’s eyes. The wind must have switched directions, and for a moment, Jisung gets caught in the swirl of intoxicating sweetness. He wants to close his eyes and savour it, the way he always does, but Minho’s stare is serious and heavy. “I thought, why the hell not. I’ve loved you and I’ve almost lost you, and I never want for that to happen again.”

The boat is small, far too small for Minho to do anything but sit awkwardly with one knee bent more than the other and Jisung watches him for a moment, amused before the possible meaning behind Minho’s nervous smile kicks in and then his heart goes wild.

“It’s not marriage, if you don’t want it to be yet, but it _ is _ a vow I’m making to you,” he says, his voice dripping with love, as he pulls out the golden ring from his pocket and holds it up to Jisung. “A vow to love you forever, and to do all I can to make sure you’re happy. To keep your heart safe, to keep your bed warm, to be someone you can depend on and trust.”

“Minho,” Jisung breathes out, a laugh and a plea. His hands shake as he reaches up to pull the red thread from his neck and over his head, but he doesn’t care. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been—I’ve learnt it the hard way. I never want to lose you. So, I’ll make you a promise of my own.”

Minho’s eyes go incredibly wide and the grin that spreads on his face almost splits it in half.

“I promise to stay by your side, through whatever life throws our way, and to take care of you and to be your home. To love you until the last star in the universe dies and then the rest of forever beyond that.”

“Jisung,” Minho takes a deep breath and leans even closer. “God, I love you so much, I’m not even sure I could ever describe it—”

“Then don’t,” Jisung interrupts, giving a quick kiss to Minho’s nose before he slips the thread over his head. “Now, please take good care of it,” he says, pressing his palm to where the key rests on Minho’s chest. “I have entrusted you with my dreams and wishes.”

Minho stares at him for a moment, then lays a hand over Jisung’s.

“I won’t even be mad you clearly just tried to one-up me,” he says, a smirk on his lips and a glint of tears on his eyelashes. “Only cause I love you more than my own pride.”

Jisung rolls his eyes.

“Put the ring on me, dear beloved suitor, so I can kiss you already.”

“You can kiss me anytime,” Minho mumbles, taking Jisung’s hand and slipping a ring on it. It fits perfectly, like it always does. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you just di—”

Jisung’s lips shut him up pretty quick, the way they always do.

**Author's Note:**

> love me some pseudo marriages  
please tell me your thoughts uwu  
you could also come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie) or [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/squishiesungie)
> 
> also mb consider retweeting [ the tweet about my fic](https://twitter.com/squishiesungie/status/1182376287631020032)?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] bury me in your memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371362) by [idellaphod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idellaphod/pseuds/idellaphod), [the24thkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the24thkey/pseuds/the24thkey)


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